


Chasing After Me

by Trancifest



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Body Swap AU, M/M, Seriously Sloooooooooow Burn, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Your Name AU, jsyk if thats not your cup of tea, there is Adashi and Jeith but its not endgame so I didnt tag it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15830223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trancifest/pseuds/Trancifest
Summary: Shiro and Keith dream about living lives that are different from their own. However, the two soon discover they are not actually dreaming, but are inexplicably switching places with one another. Seemingly at random, they wake up in each other’s bodies and go about the other’s life for a day. In trying to keep the life of a stranger in tact and understand what is happening to them, the two form an unbreakable bond that transcends time and space.(A Shieth Your Name AU)





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! So this is my first fanfic ever and the first anything I've written in a loooooong time.
> 
> I rewatched Your Name recently and was reminded how much it gave me Sheith feels. I feel like their dynamic works so perfectly with the story, but I haven't seen anyone else try to tackle this AU yet. So, you know... be the fan content you want to see!
> 
> Basically this is just super self indulgent, and maybe there'll be others out there who can get enjoyment from it. If you do, let me know and we can go cry together!
> 
> Spoilers for Your Name, obviously. And seriously, if you haven't seen Your Name, do yourself a favor and rent it ASAP. It's incredible. Don't let my shitty writing be your introduction. I will not do it justice, and there are absolutely points that you should not have spoiled for you.
> 
> Been listening to the Your Name soundtrack on repeat while writing this. Also highly recommend it if you haven't checked it out yet. The title comes from my favorite line from the OP, because I just think it summarizes the whole story so perfectly. "I'm on my way to you chasing after me."

_Tears?_  
  
Early morning light streamed through the blinds of Takashi Shirogane’s studio apartment to illuminate the evidence that he had once again woken up crying. Shiro rubbed the familiar tears between his thumb and forefinger like he always did to make sure that they were real and not just another figment of the dream he had been having.    
  
Despite the fact that this was an often enough occurrence for Shiro to make note of it, he was always surprised to find his face wet as he came to consciousness. The origin of the tears were a complete mystery, but they always came coupled with a hollow, empty feeling settled deep within his chest after he woke up.  
  
Or more precisely, a lack of feeling.  As if someone had removed an important cog in the machine that made him work while he had been sleeping. As if there was a hole in his chest where his heart should be.  Less of a sense, and more of a sense of loss.  
  
That feeling would always stick with him long after the tear tracks dried on his cheeks, and today was no different as Shiro got out of bed and went about his morning routine.  
  
He shrugged on his jacket and while waiting for his tea to heat up, he couldn’t help but wonder, like he always did on these mornings, what the source of this involuntary display of emotion could possibly be.  
  
It definitely wasn’t a nightmare. He wishes that he could forget _those_ dreams after he woke up. And there was never the jerking shock back to reality, no racing heartbeat that kept him lying awake in bed long after, afraid to go back to sleep to relive those memories. No, the tears were always accompanied by a gentle, natural rise to wakefulness, just a few minutes before his alarm was scheduled to do the deed for him.  
  
Shiro locked his apartment as he left to join the crowded streets of Tokyo swarming with fellow morning commuters. As his feet carried him in the direction of his train station, his mind continued to fruitlessly pick at the invisible wound that had opened behind his rib cage.  
  
When he first started waking up with a gentle stream of tears running down his face, he thought it was just another side effect of the accident. It made sense, but it never completely sat right with him.  The tears had started years after the accident, and Shiro had grown familiar with that pain by then. His arm and his mother were gone forever, and he was intimately aware of how the sharp stabbing sensation of guilt and loss would crush his heart anytime he thought about them.  
  
This was a different kind of loss. The kind of loss that was frustrating and shameful because it felt like what’s missing should be attainable. Like it shouldn’t even be lost in the first place.  
  
Like when Shiro would lose his apartment keys while still in his apartment. They’re there, they have to be there. He got into his apartment so he knows they’re there somewhere. They’re not really lost, but not knowing exactly we’re they are is infuriating and makes him feel like an idiot for losing track of something so simple yet so important. Only after he abandons his search and gets distracted by something else does the missing culprit appear in plain sight.  
  
He entered his train when it arrived at the station and was soon shuffled against the side of the train car by the pressing crowd. He tried his best to keep his balance as the train lurked forward and gazed out the window, staring at the strangers on the train speeding in the opposite direction from his own, hoping to find a similar distraction for the weight that still sat in his chest.    
  
Instead, he met the deep violet eyes of one of the commuters on the other train. For a brief shining moment that lasted an eternity, the cavity in Shiro’s chest seemed to swell to the point of bursting. He knew those eyes, that too long dark hair, that sharp chin. He’d seen that very face reflected in a mirror looking back at him before.  
  
In that moment suspended in time as two trains rocketed in different directions, everything shifted into place. Memories flooded to the surface of his mind, racing him back to the beginning. To the first morning he woke up with unexplained tears streaming down his face.  
  
_That day the comet fell from the sky..._


	2. School Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so remember how this fic is tagged slow burn? Keep that in mind.
> 
> This chapter is a lot of set up, but there's good stuff to come if you let me get there. I promise!

_“Keith?”_  
  
_“Keith?”_  
  
_“Don’t you remember me?”_  
  
Keith shot upright in bed, despite the fact that the voice in his head had been soft and gentle. His heart raced with a sense of urgency, instincts telling him that he needed to move fast. The details of the dream that he had been having were already escaping him, but the sense of chasing something—someone?—stayed with him long enough for him to be confused by it. As did the frustrated feeling that what was missing had just been within reach right before he had woken up.  
  
Keith, still dazed from sleep, slowly scanned his bedroom in an attempt to bring himself back to reality. Which didn’t exactly help, as he steadily realized that this wasn’t his bedroom.  
  
Morning light leaked its way through slanted wooden blinds, so there was no mistaking that the room Keith had woken up in was far too old fashioned to be the cramped apartment he shared with Kolivan in Tokyo. The room was impeccably neat, not unlike Keith’s own, but the lack of clutter in Keith’s room was more due to him having few worldly possessions of his own to fill it. Where as the room he currently found himself sitting in, despite clearly being well lived in, had more of a militaristic air to its cleanliness.

A little bonsai tree, well groomed and well watered, sat in the window sill. Textbooks, notebooks, pencils, and other school supplies sat in regimented, well organized stacks on a desk up against the wall opposite to the bed. Star charts that seemed more academic than aesthetic lined the wall behind it. A school bag sat on the floor up against one of the desk legs, seemingly already packed for the day ahead. A pressed blue and white school uniform hung on the wall directly across from the bed, and Keith didn’t need to try the shirt on to know that it would would be at least two sizes too big on him.  
  
Keith attempted to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes hoping that he could get rid of this after image of his dream that was apparently haunting him. But that only managed to increase his groggy confusion as only one arm seemed to respond to the command. It felt like both arms should be moving, but only his left hand made contact with his face as intended. Had he fallen asleep on his arm and lost feeling in it? There hadn’t been the tell tale sign of pins and needles returning blood back to his muscles after he had sat up.  
  
Keith opened his eyes again this time to evaluate himself, and what he saw caused him to throw the covers off his legs as he leapt out of the bed and sprinted toward the full body mirror hanging on the wall next to the uniform.  
  
The mirror showed him an undercut hairstyle with a shock of white for bangs, steel gray eyes, a jagged scar across the bridge of his nose, and a strong square jaw. All of which were features that Keith had never possessed. And although Keith had always been proud of the fact that he was much stronger than his slim form would suggest—as he realized that he had been sleeping shirtless—he couldn’t help but gauk at wide set shoulders revealing rippling visible muscles which lead down to bulging biceps and good lord that defined _chest_ was borderline obscene. He was also fairly certain that when he had gone to bed last night, he still had a right arm, which was now most definitely missing.  
  
Keith liked to think that he had nerves of steel. He’s seen a lot of shit in his life, and despite his admittedly short temper, it took a lot to shake him. But he couldn’t even find room within himself to be ashamed as raw, unadulterated panic rose in his chest and left his mouth in a single, involuntary scream.  
  
———————————————————  
  
Shiro made his way down the last few stairs to the house’s little kitchen. The weather had been impeccable lately, and the sliding door was open wide to let in the crisp morning air and sunlight. He stopped on his way to the table to greet his grandmother with a kiss on the forehead like he did everyday. An easy feat since she was easily a head and a half shorter than her grandson.  
  
“Good morning, Takashi,” she smiled after him while still fussing around the kitchen. “You seem... well this morning,” she added almost cautiously while joining Shiro and his grandfather at the table.  
  
“I suppose so” Shiro responded, caught slightly off guard by the subtle edge to her second comment, “It is a very nice morning.” He waited for his grandparents to take their breakfast first before reaching for his own.  
  
“Yes, it’s certainly good to see that you remember how to attach your own arm today,” Shiro’s grandfather commented almost nonchalantly, earning him a smack on the upper arm from his wife seated to his right.  
  
Shiro... wasn’t sure what to say to that. The conversation topic was so out of place that it seemed like the start of one of his grandfather’s jokes. But the way that his grandmother was eyeing Shiro with concern as if she was expecting him to flinch or recoil, made him think that the comment had been made in complete seriousness.  
  
After a few awkward seconds of silence while the prosthetic limb in question hovered halfway to delivering food to Shiro’s plate, Shiro laughed nervously, “Well you always taught me start my day prepared.” He tried to make light of the conversation, but he couldn’t help furrowing his brow and asking, “Why... would that be something that I would forget?”  
  
He caught his grandmother’s worried frown deepen, but his grandfather shrugged while blowing steam off his tea. “Seemed to slip your mind yesterday,” he offered.  
  
“Yesterday?” Shiro was starting to have a difficult time hiding his confusion on his face.  
  
“You were positively manic,” his grandfather informed him with the casualness of mentioning the weather forecast.  
  
“Tetsuya!” Shiro’s grandmother exclaimed from across the table scandalized by her husband’s bluntness.  
  
“What?” He asked continuing to sip his too hot tea slowly enough to not burn his tongue, “The poor boy looked like a scared rabbit all day yesterday. But that episode seems to be over now. Welcome back, Takashi!” He nodded his head in Shiro’s direction while his wife stared daggers at the back of his head.  
  
Shiro’s mouth hung open, words escaping him as he grappled to understand what was being told to him. As far as he remembered, the day before had been spectacularly average. Walk to school with the Holts, typical day of classes, and an afternoon spent with Adam. But his grandfather was nothing if not staunchly truthful, and he clearly wasn’t teasing Shiro or joking about anything he had just said.  
  
Shiro began practicing one of the breathing exercises that he had picked up in therapy to stave off the panic that was slowing rising in his throat. Had he really forgotten an entire day? Oh god, what had he done that he couldn’t remember? He counted each breath he took in and exhaled slowly to try to keep his mind from spiraling. Had he had some kind of relapse? He’d been doing so much better lately. He was out of physical therapy, he was back in school and on track to finally graduate, and it had been a few months since his last full blown panic attack. He closed his eyes for several seconds and sent a brief prayer to his family’s deity that some other aspect of his trauma had not crawled out of the recesses of his mind to derail the life he was so desperate to get back on track.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, he met the gaze of his grandmother from across the table, her eyes laced with concern. After the accident, Shiro couldn’t stand the worry that seemed to seep it’s way into almost every interaction in his life. In a town this small, everyone had heard the news, especially since his family was well known and, for the most part, well liked. He hated how the mood suddenly shifted anytime he entered a room. Everyone painfully aware of his presence and afraid to say something too sharp lest they accidentally break him.  
  
However, his grandmother’s abundant concern over his well being never made him feel weak the way almost everyone else did. Most likely because she had fussed over his safety just as much before the accident as she did after. He had always been her treasured grandson that she was equal parts proud of and protective over. Shiro could never fully express to her how immensely grateful he was that that dynamic had not changed, despite the fact that he was only a shattered memory of the promising man he had been before the accident.  
  
His mind settled back into his body and he cleared his throat offering, “I apologize if my behavior yesterday was inappropriate in anyway.” He had no idea what he possibly could have done the day before, but a catch all apology seemed like a decent place to start. Especially since he didn’t know if he was ready quite yet to let them onto the fact that an entire day had somehow slipped from his memory.  
  
His grandfather waved a hand dismissively in his direction, muttering “You were perfectly fine, just seemed extremely confused and startled by just about everything.”  
  
At the same time his grandmother offered him a kind smile and assured, “You have nothing to apologize for.”  
  
They both continued to eat in silence, seemingly giving Shiro the chance to offer an explanation, but Shiro not having one, remained quiet as well. They didn’t question him further, and Shiro respected them giving him his space.  
  
With no conversation, the family’s attention was steadily drawn to the little TV that sat on the unoccupied corner of the table. The local news station was doing another weather piece on the approaching comet. It wasn’t scheduled to pass by Earth for several more months, but since the comet only made its passing every couple hundred of years, buzz about its arrival had started nearly a year out.  Miraculously, the night that the comet was scheduled to streak over the night sky was the first night of the town’s annual autumn festival. The cosmos aligning with the ancient traditions of their little town stirred up all kinds of excited conversation. And naturally, such a rare astrological phenomenon was of key interest to the Galaxy Garrison base located to the east. Garrison greys and local politicians had latched onto the event as an opportunity to showcase a coming together of the research facility and the local community in an attempt to alleviated the tension that been growing between the two ever since the Garrison set up shop in their mountains.  
  
A conflict that was unfortunately as much a personal one for Shiro as it was a political one for their little community. Either way he had every intention of being front and center that night to get a clear view of the comet lightning up the night sky.  
  
Shiro continued to daydream about space as he cleaned up the table, picked up his things, and headed out the front door and down the long line of stairs that lead to the cobblestone path that looped its way around Altea Lake. Altea, named for the very lake that the town was centered around, was a tiny remote community nestled in shallow mountains and far removed from most other civilization. The lake itself was rather large and almost perfectly circular. Little houses, small businesses, and stone walkways wound their way around the sloping cliff sides that led to the banks of the lake. Shiro lived with his grandparents in their ancestral home, which doubled as the local temple.

Altea High School was about a third of the way around the lake, meaning that like most places in town, he would have to walk around the body of water to get to it. The sun rose steadily over the top of the far mountains, allowing sunlight to reflect, bounce, and sparkle off the lake’s surface in an almost blinding display. There was barely any breeze and the temperature was mild, making Shiro’s walk to school comfortable and peaceful. The quiet didn’t last long though, as he heard an unintelligible holler echo from behind him shortly after starting on his regular path.  
  
Shiro turned to see Matt Holt steadily catching up with him on his bike with his younger sister Pidge riding on the back. Shiro stopped and waited for them. “What was that?” Shiro questioned when the pair were actually within hearing distance.  
  
“I asked if you had successfully defeated your evil clone,” Matt huffed out as he finally rode up next to Shiro. “Ugh, Pidge, Shiro’s here, you can get off now.”  
  
Pidge hopped off the back of the bicycle, but not before sticking her tongue out at the back of her brother’s head. Shiro looked at her with a quirked eyebrow as she began walking in stride next to him. “Is that an anime reference that I’m supposed to understand?”  
  
“Normally, you’d be right, but nope today he’s talking about you,” Pidge answered trying to give Shiro a reassuring pat on the shoulder, which landed somewhere around the middle of his back due to their absurd difference in height. “Seriously though, what was up with you yesterday?”

“What do you mean?” Shiro asked, hoping that this conversation wasn’t head where he thought.

“It was like you had been possessed by an evil witch or something,” Matt commented from on his bike.  
  
“Uh...” Shiro started eloquently, trying to come up with an excuse that would satisfy the Holt siblings. He wasn’t entirely ready to admit out loud that he apparently forgot about an entire day. And he knew that an outright lie wouldn’t do him any good between the two’s ravenous curiosity and deadly accurate bullshit detector. “I... don’t really want to talk about it,” he opted at keeping his answer as vague as possible while still truthful.  
  
That still got him a look from both siblings as well as a shared glance between the two of them, which was impossible for Shiro to miss since he was walking in between them. After a beat of silence though, they thankfully moved the conversation onto other topics.

Matt did start to chatter about his latest anime obsession, and Pidge rolled her eyes and excitingly mentioned the progress that she had been making on the little robot she was building in the Holts’ garage. The trio slipped easily back into their normal routine as they made their way around the lake, and the sense of normalcy helped ease the anxiety that had been boiling in Shiro’s stomach since his conversation with his grandparents earlier.

His family had known the Holts through the Garrison before any of them had even been born, so the three of them had been early friends by default. Spending time with the Holt siblings had always been easy. The kind of ease that can only come from each party firsthand witnessing the others awkward phases and most embarrassing moments growing up. There was no pressure to put up a front when they’d already seen the worst you had offer and decided they still wanted to spend time with you anyway.  Shiro was eternally grateful that Matt and Pidge were still a part of his life despite everything that had happened.

“What’s going on here?” Matt interjected into Shiro’s thoughts as the three friends crested a hill. A small group of people were gathered around a little courtyard in between a cluster of shops. The sound of someone speaking through a megaphone could be heard, but what they were saying was lost behind the muttering of the crowd. Shiro, Matt, and Pidge worked their way around the edge of the gathering to be on their way, but as they got closer they were able to pick out pieces of conversation.

“Can you believe this?” A man in his forties with his arms crossed across his chest gestured toward the edge of the courtyard were the crowd’s attention was centered. “Look at him sucking up to these people. As if we owe them anything.”

“He’s just desperate to hold onto his station,” an old woman with a sour face responded, “We all know there’ll be more of them than of us soon enough. Next election they’ll most likely push to elect one of their own and finally put an end to any history that this town once had.”

Shiro, having the distinct advantage of being the tallest of the three as well as one of the tallest people in town, looked over the gathered heads to see the cause of the morning commotion. Pieces instantly began to fall into place as he saw a Garrison vehicle parked at the edge of the clearing. The current mayor of the town was standing in front of it and was the one that they had heard through the megaphone. Now that they were closer, Shiro could make out that the mayor was boasting about how partnering with the Galaxy Garrison base would bring much needed industry and revenue back to the town. On each side of him stood a Garrison officer standing at attention proudly in their gray uniforms.

Shiro was not surprised to recognize the man on the mayor’s right as his own father. He stared for a split second too long and the man’s gaze shifted slightly, and two identical pairs of steel gray eyes made contact before Shiro could look away. Shiro froze and tried to decide, like he had for almost the past year, how to address his father. The polite course of action would be to acknowledge his father in some way, through either a wave or a respectful nod of his head. Shiro was a polite young man, or at least he was well known as such two years ago. He had been a lot of things two years ago.

Shiro’s father made up his mind for him as he broke their brief eye contact to continue to stare ahead of him. As if nothing had happened. He looked straight through Shiro as if he had only just seen the ghost of his son rather than the real thing.

Shiro closed his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. He pushed through the crowd and continued on their way to school at a walking speed so fast Pidge had to jog and Matt had to pedal faster to keep up. He clenched his jaw so tight it started cramping, but he wore his silence like a protective forcefield. Matt and Pidge, sensing the shift in mood, knew better than to say anything to him.  The rest of their walk was silent.

Shiro finally felt himself start to calm down as he took his seat near the back of the classroom between the window and Matt. But today just wasn’t going to be a good day for Shiro, because as the quiet blaze of rage drained out of his system, he felt the nerves and anxiety that had been sitting dormant take centerstage in his mind once more as he noticed all of his classmates stealing glances at him as they took their seats and whispered behind their hands.

“Hey, on the brightside, you remembered which desk was yours today,” Matt playfully elbowed Shiro from across the aisle.  Shiro could only groan and sink his face into his hands. He knew that Matt was only joking and that easing tension with humor was his trademark, but Shiro really didn’t need the reminder right now that he was apparently losing his mind. Well, more than he already had at least. The day had barely begun, and Shiro already wanted to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over his head so that he didn’t have to watch his existence crumble around him.

But deep down Shiro knew that he was too responsible to fake a sick day, even if he really was starting to feel queasy, so instead he busied himself with getting ready for class. He pulled a pen out of his school bag and opened his notebook, but furrowed his brow at what he found inside. The random page that Shiro had opened to was covered in an incredibly accurate pencil sketch of the lakeview from his seat by the window.  Shiro didn’t have an artistic bone in his body, and the drawing was well above anything of his caliber.

Shiro began flipping through the pages of his notebook. There were more drawings depicting the classroom, his teacher, even a profile portrait of Matt diligently taking notes. Some were rougher than others, but all of them demonstrated serious talent. There’s no way Shiro drew any of these.

Shiro began flipping backwards, trying to find where the drawings began. They were a decent way into the notebook, and there were several blank pages in between Shiro’s last page of notes and where the pictures began. As if someone had just opened the notebook at random and had starting sketching. He finally identified where the additions to his notebook began, and instead of another drawing, there was a note written outside of the boundaries of the lines in large scratchy letters that didn’t match Shiro’s handwriting.

_“Who are you?”_

———————————————————

Shiro finally came clean with Matt and Pidge during lunch later that day. After the smattering of giggles that had broken out after Shiro responded to his name during attendance, he decided that if he was going crazy, he might as well be in the loop.

The clear weather had lasted and the trio was sitting outside in the schoolyard under the shade of one of the big trees overlooking the sparkling lake. Sunlight filtered through the leaves casting a patchwork of shadow over their laps and the grass beneath them.

Pidge and Matt shared one of their looks before turning to face Shiro fully. Matt was the first to talk, “So you really don’t remember yesterday at all?”

Shiro opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head. “I guess that does make sense,” Pidge muttered more to herself than to the other two, “It seemed like you had amnesia all day yesterday, so the fact that you don’t remember it could be related.”

She fixed her intelligent gaze onto Shiro from behind her glasses, “You might be having issues with the part of your brain that creates and stores memories. It wouldn’t be the first time. Have you had any lapses in memory like this before? I mean...” Pidge seemed to catch herself, “Besides the obvious.”

Shiro always forgot that Pidge was three whole years younger than Matt, despite only being one grade behind them in school. With her sharp intellect and perceptiveness, she could probably get into university right now without breaking a sweat.

Shiro shook his head and answered, “No, not recently. And I’m trying to take this one step at a time. Right now I just want fill in the gaps. I’ll deal with the possibility of long term brain damage later.”

As usual his stab at dark humor fell completely flat, and the Holt siblings continued to look at him with worried expressions.

“Well I mean you were pretty weird yesterday, but you mostly just seemed really freaked out,” Matt offered apparently not knowing where to begin.

“When we met you on the way to school, you were just standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to your house looking completely lost,” Pidge added.

“Yeah it was a lot of stuff like that,” Matt elaborated, “Like you forgetting which locker and desk was yours.”

“You called me Katie at one point.”

“You didn’t respond to your name during roll call. Or for most of the day for that matter.”

“You mostly just looked really confused all the time. Like you didn’t know where you were.”

Shiro buries his face in hands and tried to look like he wasn’t dying on the inside. It definitely sounded like his memory was on the fritz again. But why now?

“You really don’t remember _anything_?” Pidge prodded.

Shiro poked his eyes out from between his fingers. “No, nothing. Although,” he slowly started lowering his hands, “I remember having a weird dream last night. But I don’t think it had anything to do with yesterday since it wasn’t here. It was... somewhere else.”

Shiro’s eyes went a little glassy as he gazed across the lake and distracted himself from his current predicament by trying to remember the details of his dream. Where _had_ it taken place? It definitely wasn’t in Altea. He clearly remembers dreaming, but none of the specifics could take shape long enough for Shiro to name them. It had been a good dream, that much he knew.

Shiro’s phone buzzed next to him in the grass and effectively pulled him back to reality. He lifted the phone and his brow furrowed when he saw the contact name displayed.

“It’s Adam,” he showed the Holts.

“Why is he calling you in the middle of the day?” Matt asked, “Isn’t he working?”

Shiro shrugged as an answer to both questions and swiped to answer his phone.

“Hey,” Shiro spoke into the phone and tried to ignore the exaggerated kissy faces the pair of siblings were making in his direction, “What’s up? Is everything ok?”

“Takashi!” Adam’s voiced crackled over the ever strained cell connection that was common in areas this remote, “I’m out front. I haven’t completely missed your lunch period yet have I?”

“I--No, I still have about twenty minutes left. You’re here?” Shiro perked up a little bit at the prospect of seeing his boyfriend.

“Yeah. Can you come meet me in the parking lot?”

“Sure, give me a few minutes,” Shiro ended the call, gathered what was left of his lunch, and filled in Matt and Pidge as he left to make his way towards the school’s guest parking lot.

His mood lightened a bit when, sure enough, he saw Adam leaning against his car. The sun, now high in the sky, reflected off the frames of his glasses. Shiro didn’t think he was ever going to get over how good his boyfriend looked in full Galaxy Garrison uniform.

“Hey!” Shiro smiled, waved, and picked up his pace to a light jog once Adam noticed him approaching. “This is a pleasant surprise! What are you doing here?” Shiro started to think that today might not be completely awful after all.

“Takashi,” Adam’s voice sounded strained, “I was worried about you. Is everything alright?”

Then again, maybe not.

Now that Shiro was closer, he could make out the worry lines carved into Adam’s face. His boyfriend looked like he hadn’t slept well and was looking at him with an expression that fell somewhere on the venn diagram of relief, confusion, and poorly concealed anger.

Any improvement to Shiro’s mood had significantly deflated in a mere fifteen seconds. “Is this about yesterday?” Shiro asked sheepishly.

“What the hell happened?” Adam was looking at Shiro like he was a ghost. Or rather, like he had expected and feared to see a ghost and then wasn’t sure how to react when he was presented with a flesh and blood living person instead. “You didn’t show up on time at the usual place, and then when you didn’t show up half an hour later, I called. You didn’t answer your phone. You didn’t answer your phone for _hours_. I had to call your grandparents just to know that you had made it home ok and weren’t dead at the bottom of the lake.”

Shiro didn’t know how the pit in his stomach could feel so hollow and so heavy at the same time, but he felt like it was swelling large enough that it would sink him straight through the ground to the center of the Earth.

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose, “They told me that yesterday was a bad day for you and that you had gone to bed early. I wanted to give you your space in case that’s what you needed, but then when I didn’t hear from you at all this morning, I...” Adam let out a shaky breath. “Look, I’m sorry if this is sudden, but I needed to make sure that you were ok.”

Shiro’s human arm subconsciously crossed his chest to rub at the robotic one and hugged it closer to his body.  He was having trouble meeting Adam’s intense gaze. “God, Adam, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m ok now, yesterday was just...” Shiro released a tired sigh, “Yesterday was just a really bad day for me.”

The lie tasted like venom in his mouth. Shiro supposed it wasn’t a full lie, only a half lie really. A lie of omission. But even the idea of not telling Adam the full truth felt like swallowing poison, and the rolling in his gut worsened.  If only the truth wouldn’t scare Adam even more. Shiro had apparently given him enough to worry about over the last twenty-four hours, or the last two years for that matter, and he just wanted to calm Adam down. Adam had grown significantly more concerned about Shiro’s well being since the accident, and while Shiro certainly couldn’t blame him, he knew that admitting to a mysterious case of short-term amnesia would be followed by a round of worried questions and an insistence on driving him to a doctor right then and there. Adam’s recent overprotective streak was a nerve between them that Shiro really didn’t feel like striking right now. Besides, Shiro was trying really hard not to freak out himself, and both of them panicking wouldn’t help either of them.

“Takashi.” The seriousness of Adam’s tone snapped Shiro out of his train of thought, “Are _we_ ok?”

That certainly got Shiro’s attention. “What?!” Shiro’s gaze finally shot away from his feet to meet Adam’s eyes, “Oh my god, yes, Adam, we are ok! If anything, I should be asking you that. The way I acted yesterday was unacceptable, and I’m so _so_ sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Shiro grabbed his boyfriend by the upper arms trying to reassure him through physical contact.

Some of the tension leaked out of Adam’s shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around Shiro’s waist and lower back pulling him closer into a hug. He seemed so tired, and his head borderline collapsed onto Shiro’s shoulder. “Ok,” he exhaled quietly into Shiro’s hairline, “It’s ok, you don’t need to apologize. But you know that you can talk to me when things get bad, right?”

Shiro returned the embrace by sliding his hands up Adam’s shoulders and wrapping his arms around his neck. “Yeah, I know.”

They stayed like that for a few moments in silence. Lunch period would be over soon, and Shiro would have to head back inside for class. He tried to savor the warmth of the man in his arms, but despite the sun and Adam, he couldn’t help but feel cold.

Funny looks from classmates was one thing, but it sounded like whatever episode he had yesterday had seriously threatened his relationship with Adam. Adam meant more to him than he could appropriately put into words. They’d been together almost six years at this point, and they’d already been through _so much_ together that it didn’t seem possible that they could have lasted this long.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro whispered once more so quietly that if Adam’s head hadn’t been tucked under his, he never would have heard him.

_I’m so sorry for everything._

 ———————————————————

Shiro, Matt, and Pidge sat on a bench overlooking the lake from a vantage point placed higher on the surrounding shallow mountains than most of the rest of the town. The light was steadily fading from the sky as the sun began to sink behind the crest of one such mountain, painting the entire scene below them in a golden filter. If you knew where to look, on the horizon you could see the blinking lights of the Garrison’s jets and test flights.

The remote location had been ideal for one of the Galaxy Garrison’s research and testing facilities. The lack of surrounding civilization promised both easy viewing of the night sky without fear of light pollution, as well as the freedom to test their top secret experimental aircraft away from curious eyes. But Altea was such a small town that it didn’t justify a place on most maps, and whichever Garrison bigwigs had signed off on the base’s creation, clearly hadn’t realized that they would be sharing the general area with a community that was staunchly suspicious of anything unknown, as well as extremely set in their tradition.

Next to Shiro, Pidge and Matt were caught up in a debate about computer science that was so over Shiro’s head he was convinced they were making up words just to mess with him. Used to the siblings’ technobabble, he was content just to be in their company while he played with their family dog Bae Bae. The three friends had headed to the Holt household after school to work on some homework, but the weather had been too nice to resist, and they had set out shortly after with Bae Bae in tow to find a sunny patch of grass to study in instead.

Normally, Shiro would spend his afternoons with Adam once he made it back to Altea after his last class or office hours as a TA. But Adam’s impromptu trip to visit Shiro earlier that day led to him having to take an extended lunch, and Adam would need to make up his lost hours in the flight simulator that evening to meet his mandatory quota for the week.

Juggling different schedules was another new aspect of their relationship that they were both still trying to adjust too. Shiro and Adam met when Adam’s mother was transferred to the local Garrison base. Adam started attending Altea’s middle school, and Shiro being the star student both in and outside of the classroom was assigned to show him around his first day. The two had been fast friends and officially started dating the summer before high school.  But then Shiro’s entire life was set back by two years, and now both of them were realizing how much harder it was to find time for the other when they were operating on two separate timelines.

“Shiro?” Matt interrupted Shiro’s line of thought.

“Hmm?” Shiro looked up from where he was letting Bae Bae playfully gnaw on his prosthetic fingers.

“We’re not losing you again, are we buddy?” Matt half-heartedly nudged Shiro’s ribs with his elbow.

“Ah, no, just... thinking,” Shiro sighed, “Been doing a lot of that today. What did you say?”

“I asked if you’d given any more thought to what you wanted to do after graduation,” Matt eyed Shiro, trying and failing to look casual.

Shiro exhaled slowly and returned his gaze to look over the lake as it reflected the last dying bits of daylight.  He supposed this conversation wasn’t going to get any easier the further into the school year they got. Each day that passed crept them closer and closer to graduation and the looming ultimatum would only grow larger on the horizon from here on out.

“Yeah like I said, I’ve _thought_ about it plenty,” Shiro placed his elbows on his knees and folded his hands, ignoring the disgruntled whine from Bae Bae, “Still haven’t made up my mind yet though.

“Are you going to at least apply for the Garrison? You got in once, so I imagine that helps take the edge off the nerves a bit.” Matt once again trying to lighten the blatant tension in the air with some humor. But Matt didn’t have the same concerns about graduation as Shiro. Between his family connections and his brains, he was a shoo-in for the Garrison’s science program. Shiro’s path had once been so obviously clear as well, but now not so much.

“As long I don’t completely fail out of my last year, my grades should still be good enough to make the cut,” Shiro conceded. “But I imagine I’ll need to take the physical and the simulation test again,” the edge returning to Shiro’s voice. Not to mention a psychiatric evaluation would probably be in his future as well if his memory kept acting up.

“You know our dad will vouch for you if anyone tries to give you a hard time,” Matt asserted. Shiro stifled a sarcastic laugh at the word “if.” And although his own father hadn’t been mentioned yet in the conversation, his absence spoke more to his influence over the matter than any reassuring comment from Matt or Pidge ever could.

“I haven’t flown in years. I haven’t even set foot in a simulator since... well, you know...” Shiro trailed off, leaving memories better left untouched unsaid. “Besides, taking on the old family traditions might not be such a bad idea. These last couple of months have been... relaxing. Soothing, you know."

Since moving in with his grandparents, Shiro had taken a much more active role in preserving the old religious traditions of the town than he had in his childhood and early teen years. His mother’s side of the family had been the keepers of Altea’s temple for generations.  Maintaining both the physical temple as well as the ancient practices tied to it for the past couple of months had helped Shiro start to find a sort of peace within himself after everything that had happened. He wasn’t exactly on the brink of achieving enlightenment or even close to feeling like a whole person again, but the routine and the quiet at least allowed him to find a place his mind were he didn’t hurt anymore. And even that was more than he probably deserved.

Lately, Shiro had busied his mind with an upcoming ritual that, as the youngest member of his family, would ideally introduce him as the next generation to carry on the legacy of the temple and it’s god.

“Although, I suppose if I do decide to stay here, Adam would want to stay as well,” Shiro mused more to himself than to anyone else. “That hardly seems fair to him.” After all the fantasizing that the two had done about high flying adventure together, Shiro wouldn’t be able to stand it if Adam stayed trapped in Altea for forever because of him.

“Hey,” Matt poked Shiro’s cheek, which only succeeded in deepening his frown. “Adam’s an adult too, he’s capable of making his own decisions.” When the furrow between Shiro’s brow grew even more prominent, Matt sighed in exasperated defeat, “You know you don’t have to carry the weight of everyone else’s decisions on your shoulders, right?”

The sun was now completely hidden by the mountain ridge. The moon was starting to appear high and bright in the sky, reflecting off the surface of the lake. The group would have to head back soon. They probably should have left for home awhile ago.

Shiro groaned and leaned his head over the back of the bench and toward the emerging night sky that was slowly filling with stars. He closed his eyes and wondered if he could will himself to fall upward into that void. Shiro loved the Holts, and his grandparents, and Adam, but he’d be lying if he said he’d never imagined what it would like to wake up one day with a completely fresh slate. To start over somewhere else with no memory of his past self or former dreams or this tiny town with its absurd politics.

But at the end of the day, he knew that those thoughts were nothing more than wishful thinking.  An escapist fantasy he crafted to avoid facing the many problems of his reality. Every morning, Shiro would have to wake up in his own body and face the consequences that came with it.

He could always hold out hope that in his next life he would be reborn as a handsome Tokyo boy instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're having fun so far!
> 
> For a Sheith fic, there sure hasn't been a lot of Keith so far. More just teasing Keith right now. But remember: Patience Yields Focus
> 
> Comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated! Or even if you just want to cry with me about Keith and Shiro. Or Your Name. I'm always down to scream about my faves.
> 
> (P.S.: You have no idea how tempted I was to write a scene of Keith fondling Shiro's pecs.)


	3. First View of Tokyo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! I'm back! 
> 
> Wow this chapter took a lot longer to write than I expected. But I guess traveling three weekends in a row and having a job that sucks my energy to the point where all I want to is sleep on my time off isn't conducive to a consistent writing schedule. That and my confidence took a pretty hard swan dive halfway through.
> 
> Also, I foolishly thought that this chapter would be shorter than the last one. Instead, I more than doubled the length of the entire fic. Oops.
> 
> Oh! And now there's chapter titles, since the prologue threw off the chapter count. The chapter titles are all going to be names of scores from the Your Name soundtrack because I'm a transparent bitch.
> 
> Anyway, that's enough excuses. Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Shiro’s return to consciousness was slow, but not exactly peaceful. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could register an alarm going off, but the other half of his brain happily chose to ignore it in favor of more sleep. When the beeping didn’t let up just because Shiro mentally willed it to, he flopped one arm out from under the warm sheets onto the bedside table in an attempt to silence the noisy offender. Not finding anything there, he reluctantly exerted more energy to extend his reach to the floor, searching blindly to see if the source of the insistent beeping had fallen off the table. He stretched a bit too far, and his stubborn determination to keep as much of his body under the covers as possible caused him to lose his balance and tumbled off the bed onto the floor, bringing most of the top layer of sheets with him.

“Ow,” Shiro grunted, still squeezing his eyes closed against the offending morning light. At least the buzzing was definitely closer now. Shiro grappled blindly for a little while longer until he felt his fingers make contact with the phone that was rattling against the hardwood. Shiro peeked his eyes open the bare minimum to not be blinded by the morning light shining through the window and swiped his finger on the phone’s screen to silence the alarm before closing his eyes again with a huff.

What was his phone even doing on the floor? And how had it ended up by the wall opposite to his bed?

Regardless, the floor wasn’t exactly the most comfortable spot to steal a few extra minutes of sleep, but putting enough effort in to get back on the bed would probably wake him up enough to defeat the purpose. He supposed he’d have to face the day ahead eventually. Maybe he could spare a few minutes to browse the internet before having to shoulder his responsibilities like the adult that he technically was.

Shiro winced as the bright light filtering through the windows stung his eyes once more as he opened them fully. He went to unlock his phone, only his finger never made contact with the screen. He froze mid action once he realized that the phone he was holding wasn’t his.

The model was definitely newer than Shiro’s and the lock screen was a picture of a large shaggy black dog that looked more like a wolf than any breed that Shiro was familiar with. He’d been too groggy to fully process it earlier, but the phone was plugged into a charger on the wall across from the bed. Shiro always charged his phone on his nightstand, assuming he didn’t fall asleep with it in hand while texting Adam.

Shiro placed the phone back on the floor where he had found it and slowly sat up. He didn’t recognize the starkly Spartan room that he found himself sitting in.

A simple monochromatic bedspread draped its way from the bed on Shiro’s right to where it tangled with his legs on the floor. The only other significant piece of furniture was a basic desk on Shiro’s other side. No posters lined the walls and nothing decorated the desk. If it weren’t for the full closet facing Shiro with a red and black school uniform hanging off the open door, he’d question whether the place was even inhabited. The only objects that seemed to add any personality to the room at all were a few photos of the dog Shiro had seen in the lock screen of the phone and some sketches of buildings and people Shiro didn’t recognize pinned to a cork board above the desk. There also appeared to be another photograph tucked into the upper corner of the full length mirror on the other side of the desk, but Shiro couldn’t make out the contents of the picture from his vantage point on the floor.

“Am I still dreaming?” Shiro wondered aloud to himself before promptly clearing his throat. His voice must have been raspy from sleep, even though it felt fine.

Despite the surrealness of his surroundings, Shiro could feel his mind sharpening the longer that he was awake. As his senses settled into clarity, Shiro suddenly realized that he was sitting up by resting his weight on his hands. On _both_ of his hands. And he could _feel_ the worn floorboards on his right side as well as his left.

He jerked the arm in question into his line of sight and despite all previous evidence, was still shocked to see a limb of flesh and blood instead of wires and metal plating. He stared silently at the appendage, rotating his forearm while flexing the fingers of his hand back and forth between a closed fist and an open palm. It was one of the first exercises that he had mastered for moving multiple joints at once during the physical training for his prosthetic. He pinched the heel of the hand to make sure that it was really there and even then, held his thumb against the inside of the wrist until he could feel the pulse of a heartbeat running through veins underneath the skin just to be absolutely positive that it wasn’t some kind of extremely vivid phantom pain.

_Ok, yeah, definitely dreaming..._

Shiro stood up in a trance-like state to better survey his surroundings. Textbooks, notebooks and other school supplies were stacked haphazardly on top of the desk. What looked like a sketchbook lay open to reveal more doodles and an incomplete drawing of what looked like an academic building. Even half finished, it was better than anything Shiro could do.

Shiro ran his fingers over the pages, feeling the indentations the pencil had left in the paper. For a brief second, Shiro was overwhelmed by an extreme sense of deja vu as an image of another notebook on a different desk with the words _“Who are you?”_ scrawled across the page filled his mind’s eye in startling clarity before the memory faded just as rapidly as it had arrived. He shook his head and moved towards the mirror to more closely examine the picture taped to it.

The photograph was slightly faded and the edges were well worn, suggesting that it had many homes before its current place on the mirror. The image depicted a man in a fireman’s jacket with a wide jaw and an even spread of stubble. A little boy with dark hair under a matching fireman’s hat sat on the man’s shoulders, tiny fists gripping the man’s hair. The two had clearly posed for the picture, but whoever had taken the photo had caught them in a candid moment where both were laughing.

Shiro lifted his hand as if to brush his fingers over the creases of the picture, but stopped himself halfway. Something felt to intimate about the photo. Like it wasn’t there for him, and he was intruding simply by looking at it.

Besides, Shiro’s line of vision finally caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror behind the picture, and he promptly became distracted with what he found there. As if this dream couldn’t get any stranger, the face staring back at him was not his own.

The man in the mirror had long black hair with shaggy bangs that draped over large dark eyes. At first they looked to be a deep navy-grayish blue, but as Shiro tilted his chin to further examine the stranger’s face, they appeared to be more of a dark violent as the light caught the irises from certain angles. His eyes as well as the chin, nose, and cheekbones were more angular than Shiro’s usual features, fitting together to form an undeniably handsome face framed by the dark hair. A bandage was taped over his right cheek bone, and as Shiro prodded it curiously with a slim finger, he winced at the familiar throb of a bruise underneath the gauze.

He was also definitely slimmer than Shiro could ever be with his broad shoulders, but underneath the tank top and the boxers he was wearing, Shiro could tell that he was still definitely well built and well trained. Leaner muscle than Shiro’s bulk. Built more for speed than outright strength.

Shiro lost himself in examining his reflection to the extent that a sudden knock at the bedroom’s door startled him so bad he physically jumped.

“Keith,” a deep man’s voice was muffled on the other side of the door, “Are you awake?”

Shiro cautiously made his way over to the door and slowly opened it. A tall, broad, and extremely serious looking older man dressed in a suit stood on the other side. He had impressively large sideburns as well as a long white hair that disappeared behind his back in a thin braid.  The man’s face was an intimidating mask of indifference that somehow still managed to radiate authority.

“You aren’t dressed yet?” The man’s eyes quickly scanned Shiro, his demeanor so controlled, Shiro couldn’t tell if he was surprised, disappointed, or just robotically stating facts.

“Uh...” Shiro went to clear his throat again.

“Are you unwell?” The man mercifully interrupted Shiro before he had to think of anything else to say.

“Ah, no. I’m fine,” seemed like a safe answer. Apparently his voice just sounded like that now.

The man’s brow furrowed slightly, and if possible, his tone became even more stern, “Then get dressed and get to school. You’re going to be late.” Leaving no room for argument, he added “I have to leave for work now.”

That was apparently the end of the conversation as the man turned to walk down the hallway into what Shiro could now see was a small, but comfortable two bedroom apartment. The man walked out the front door, closing it behind him without another word, leaving Shiro alone and confused.

Or at least he thought he was alone before a large furry head poked its head around the corner of the hall, which Shiro immediately recognized as the dog from the photos he’d seen. Upon seeing Shiro, the dog’s ears perked up before its tongue lolled out of its mouth and it began running down the corridor, tail wagging in greeting.

Shiro braced himself for the impact of an overjoyed eighty pound dog barreling until him, but before the dog made it all the way to the bedroom, it slowed itself until it stopped completely about five feet away from Shiro and cocked it head in confusion. The dog sniffed at Shiro for a few seconds before the animal’s demeanor shifted into a much more aggressive stance. Its ears flattened onto the back of its head, and a low warning growl reverberated from deep within its chest.

Shiro raised both of his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture. “Hey, there... easy, buddy,” Shiro spoke slowly and quietly. He could see the bared whites of canines definitely sharper than what he was familiar with from Bae Bae in the corner of the large dog’s mouth. Very gradually, Shiro began to lower himself into a crouch so that he was at eye level with the dog.

He steadily extended his hand out to the dog with his palm facing upward. The dog stopped growling but its ears remained flat as it began padding toward the peace offering. It sniffed hesitantly at Shiro’s fingertips. When the ears perked back up into a state of tentative curiosity, Shiro slowly moved to pat the dog’s neck, making his intentions extremely clear to the animal every step of the way. When the dog didn’t recoil from his touch, or bite any of his fingers off, Shiro grew bolder and moved to rub the back of its head between its large fluffy ears.

The dog regarded him for a moment longer before preening into the attentive touch. It’s back legs lowered until the the dog was sitting up proudly leaning into Shiro’s scratches, and the repetitive _whack_ of its long tail against the hardwood floor gave away its change in attitude towards him.

“Good boy,” Shiro couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from inching up into a small smile.

When he was convinced the dog wasn’t going to rip his throat out, he stood back up and gave it a few final pats on the head. The dog gave an annoyed whine at the loss of contact and cocked its head regarding Shiro for a few more moments before apparently losing interest and trotting back into the main area of the apartment.

“Ok, so school...” Shiro muttered to himself, turning to walk back into the bedroom. Despite the fact that this was all just some vivid dream, the stature of the man who apparently shared this apartment was imposing enough that Shiro didn’t want to risk enduring his wrath, even if it was only a figment of his imagination while he was sleeping.

The uniform seemed like a decent enough place to start, and on the floor outside of the closet, Shiro noticed a school bag propped up against the wall. Inside he found a student ID with a photo that matched his reflection. Keith Kogane was a third year student at Voltron High School and was also apparently the name of the face that he was currently wearing.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Shiro began wondering if his current dream was a manifestation of his fantasies of starting over with a new, unconnected life. You didn’t get much more of a fresh start than a new name and a new face.

Shiro shook his head in an effort to remove the distracting thoughts from his mind and quickly got dressed.  He snatched the bag up off the floor and paced his way into the main living space of the apartment. The large dog’s head and ears perked up at his entrance, but other than that it continued to lounge and take up the majority of an old worn leather sofa on the other side of the room.

Shiro had grabbed the phone off the floor as well and was in the process of Googling directions to Voltron High School--while simultaneously thanking every deity he knew that the phone hadn’t asked for a passcode--when the device vibrated in hands. The screen lit up with a received text message that startled Shiro so much he jumped and dropped the phone altogether before he could actually read it.

God, this weird dream really had him more on edge than usual.

He bent down to retrieve the phone which had landed face down on the wooden floor of the living room. He winced as he turned it over in his hand to see several large cracks radiating from the left side of the screen that definitely hadn’t been there before. Shiro wasn’t sure why, but a pang of guilt shot through his chest, despite the fact that the phone and it’s owner only existed in his mindscape.

Shiro pointed at the dog as he stood back up to his full height. “You saw nothing,” he tried to insert as much authority into this new voice as he could manage.

The dog just cocked his head its head at Shiro, and its tail began to thump against the couch cushions in blatant ignorance of anything Shiro had just said. Shiro wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting, but this dream was so bizarrely realistic that it almost would have made him feel better if the dog had actually answered him.

Through the newly formed cracks in the phone’s screen, Shiro could now actually read the text message that had initially sent him flailing.

Lance: _“Run! You’re late!”_

Aw, crap. Shiro had no idea what time classes actually started at Voltron High, but apparently he was cutting it close. He grabbed the bag off the tiny table in the kitchenette where he had left it, and bolted out the door deciding that he could look up directions as he went.

Shiro locked the door of the apartment with the keys that he had found in the bag, and turned around determined to speed walk down the hallway, only to immediately forget his sense of urgency once he was able to take in his surroundings.

Shiro had expected to enter the barren hallway of an apartment building, but realized that he was instead standing on an open terrace walkway that lead to the doors of other apartments and a stairwell on this left. And from the open wall on the other side of the apartment door was a remarkable view of the unmistakable skyline of Tokyo.

Shiro couldn’t help the small breath he let out in awe of the city as he stepped closer and placed his hands on the railing of the walkway. He’d never _actually_ been to Tokyo despite dreaming about it many times. It was possible to get to and back from Altea in a day, but the expense in train tickets usually wasn’t worth the few hours you’d have in the city before you would need to leave again. His father had always talked about bringing Shiro and his mother down during one of his Garrison conferences, but he never followed through since the travel was always paid for by the Garrison and his father didn’t want to use professional funds for personal reasons.

Shiro and Adam had planned a trip once for after graduation. They were going to spend a full two weeks in the city just the two of them and had already booked the hotel room and everything. Shiro was only just now realizing that they had never gone on that vacation. He felt guilty for forgetting about it completely, but there had been a lot on Shiro’s mind the past year, and Adam had never mentioned rescheduling it either.

 Shiro decided that Voltron High could wait a little bit longer and allowed himself a few more minutes to drink in the view of the sprawling metropolis as it sparkled and gleamed in the light of the rising sun. After all, Shiro had been in high school longer than he should have already, but he’d never been to Tokyo.

———————————————————

Almost three hours later Shiro finally found himself standing in a bustling hallway of Voltron High School.  He had completely underestimated his ability to accurately read the train maps and had rode for a full thirty minutes in the wrong direction wondering why it was taking so long to get to his stop. Even when he was on the correct trains, he kept missing his stops because he would distract himself by gaping at the city through the windows. More than once he had caught a glimpse of the Galaxy Garrison headquarters between buildings. Shiro had also completely missed one of his connections because he was on the wrong side of the platform, but he really didn’t mind the delays. He was already late at that point, and it just gave him more time to admire the city.

Shiro had recognized the building as the same one that was half sketched in the notebook that morning and climbed the steps shortly before noon. It was only after Shiro was inside aimlessly wandering empty hallways that he realized he had no idea what room he was supposed to be in at this time. He didn’t even have a locker number to go off of. Mercifully, the bell rang signalling the end of a period, and the hallways rapidly flooded with students in matching uniforms, giving Shiro more time to act like he blended in and think of a plan.

“Hey, mullet!” Shiro heard a voice holler from behind him before he felt an arm draping around his shoulders. “Nice of you to finally join us.”

Shiro looked to his left to face whoever was apparently addressing him and invading his personal space. The guy who was now leaning his weight onto Shiro’s shoulders was about the same height as him, maybe a little taller. He had warm brown skin and short brunette hair with a sharp chin and a pointed, upturned nose. His eyes were bright and deep blue and promised mischief.

“How come you didn’t answer my text?” The guy frowned at Shiro before he felt a playful--but still painful--flick to his ear. Shiro winced and pouted before putting two and two together.

His eyes widened in recognition as the puzzle pieces fell together, and Shiro exclaimed, “Oh! Lance!”

The-boy-who-was-apparently-Lance levelled him with a sarcastic look before answering, “Yeah. What?”

Before Shiro could think of a response, they were interrupted by a large jovial-looking student waving at them from the end of the hallway. The guy had dark skin and long black hair that he wore under an orange headband that seemed to match his personality more than the uniform he was wearing. He had a friendly face with soft brown eyes and a cute round nose. “Hey, Lance! See you upstairs for lunch?”

“You know it, buddy,” Lance hollered back over the heads of passing students. His arm lifted off Shiro’s shoulder to instead point at the top of his head, “Hey, Hunk! I found a stray cat. Can we keep him?”

The other student--Hunk?--squinted down the hallway apparently just noticing that Shiro was standing there too. “Oh! Hey, Keith!” His face lit up once he was finally able to pick Shiro out of the crowd. “Thought you had taken a sick day or something. I’ll see you two soon! I need to go pick up the goods!” With that, Hunk disappeared into the wave of students.

Lance tousled Shiro’s lengthy hair before moving to follow Hunk down the hallway. “Well come on. Just ‘cause you’re moving slow today doesn’t mean I have to miss any of _my_ lunch period.”

Not wanting to lose the one thread of familiarity he had to go off of, Shiro followed close behind, trying not to lose Lance in the packed hallway. Height was difficult to determine because it was all a matter of perspective, but now that he was around more people, Shiro was positive that “Keith” was at least several inches shorter than Shiro’s normal height.

Lance led him to a stairwell that went up and out onto the roof of the school building. They wove their way through a makeshift basketball game that some other students had already started up and seemed to be making their way toward the shady side of the courtyard, but their trajectory was interrupted when Lance stopped to in front of a group of gathered girls.

Shiro watched in confusion as Lance leaned against the fence in a way that he clearly thought looked effortless and cool, but instead screamed incredibly posed and awkward. Shiro could feel the temperature of his own cheeks rising in secondhand embarrassment as Lance began firing off some of the worst pick up lines that Shiro had ever had the misfortune of having to hear said out loud. _Matt_ had better game than this for crying out loud.

The whole affair was made significantly more uncomfortable by the fact that Shiro was silently hovering behind Lance’s shoulder, not knowing where else to go, despite the fact that Lance had apparently forgotten about him or any previous destination. Praying that he wasn’t expected to join in, Shiro began glancing around the rest of the rooftop, desperate for a distraction.

Thankfully, he spotted the other student that had seemed to recognize him in the other corner of the courtyard under an awning that provided significant shade from the noonday sun. Hunk was kneeling on the ground rummaging through what looked like a large cooler. When he looked up, he caught Shiro staring at him, and provided another warm smile and wave that was all the permission Shiro needed to approach Hunk alone and abandon Lance to his own endeavours.

“I’m glad you finally showed up today,” Hunk commented as Shiro joined him kneeling next to the cooler. Hunk was balancing an absurd amount of tupperware in one hand while delicately extracting a full plate covered in tinfoil from the cooler with the other, all while biting his tongue in concentration. “I made some of that strawberry shortcake that you like so much last night. It’d be a shame if you weren’t here for it.”

Shiro’s eyes widened. “You _made_ all of this?” He stated incredulously as he moved to help Hunk with the covered plate before the tower of tupperware came crashing down. Following Hunk’s lead, he placed the plate on a blanket between them on the ground. Pulling the tinfoil off sure enough revealed a gorgeous looking shortcake covered in bright red, cleanly cut strawberries sprinkled over dollops of cream.

Despite trying to help around the house as much as possible when he first moved in with his grandparents, it had taken a little over a week for Shiro’s grandmother to officially ban him from kitchen duty. Shiro’s grandfather once claimed in all seriousness that Shiro could burn water if given the chance. He couldn’t fathom ever being able create something as delicate and beautiful as this.

“Well, you know not all of it,” Hunk leveled Shiro with a funny look, “But I can’t let my mom and my sister have all the fun.” Hunk’s tone was joking, but he was clearly confused by Shiro’s comment.  

However, Shiro didn’t have time to be too concerned as Hunk began popping the lids off the tupperware containers and wonderful aromas immediately filled the air causing Shiro’s stomach to growl at an embarrassingly loud volume. He felt his face flush as he realized that he hadn’t eaten anything at all that day in the frenzy of his confused morning.

Did he even need to eat in a dream? Was he supposed to feel hunger in a dream? Would he be able to taste anything?

“Woah-ho-ho, dude,” Hunk ripped Shiro out of the downward spiral of this thoughts, “No wonder you’re out of it today, you sound starving! Here, hold on a sec.” Hunk rummaged through a soft pocket on the side of the cooler before eventually pulling out paper plates and plastic silverware. “Here you go,” Hunk offered Shiro a set of each.

“This is for me?” Shiro asked dumbly as he took the utensils from Hunk. Clearly, this was more than enough food for one person, but Shiro was still somehow surprised to be offered some/ Despite the fact that there was enough food to fill out a three course meal for a small family on the blanket.

“Uh, obviously,” Hunk was side-eying Shiro with quiet confusion again. “Go ahead and get started. I’ll get the rest out,” Hunk muttered as he returned to sift through the cooler once more.

There was _more_ food?

Before Shiro could politely object to wait for Hunk, or even decide where in the one-man potluck he even wanted to start, Lance stomped over to their corner pouting and dejected, looking for all the world like a put-out toddler, despite his height.

“You strike out?” Hunk questioned not even bothering to look up from the cooler.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Lance grumbled, snatching a plate off the blanket and beginning to pile food onto it. “And I don’t want to hear a single word from you,” Lance pointedly stabbed a serving spoon coated in thick orange sauce in Shiro’s direction.

Shiro obliged and remained silent.

He opted instead to scan over the impressive spread of cuisine in front of him. Now that his own empty stomach was brought to his attention, he was finding it more difficult to ignore. One of the containers appeared to contain seasoned grilled vegetables, and he was sure he could pick out a white protein somewhere in this mix.

Shiro had become a bit of a health nut after his accident. The regimented diet and exercise had been necessary anyway to ensure that he was physically strong enough to support his entirely metal prosthetic, but he had truly latched onto tracking his calories and macronutrients and BMI because it gave him a much needed sense of control over his own body at a time where he felt that self-autonomy had been completely lost to him.

That being said, there was something extremely freeing about realizing that he wasn’t in his own body anymore, and he could eat whatever he damn well wanted.

With this in mind, Shiro went straight for the strawberry shortcake, quickly cutting himself a piece, scooping off a rather large chunk onto his plastic fork, and forcing the balancing act of cake, fruit, and cream into his mouth.

Lance squaked and shouted an indignant, “You animal!” while at the same time Hunk chuckled and commented, “Geez, dude, I know it’s your favorite, but try and have a _little_ patience.”

Shiro barely paid attention to either of them. The cake was thick and absorbed the refreshing juice of the ripe strawberries which was complemented perfectly by the sweetness of the cream. Hunk was a _genius_. Shiro couldn’t stop the appreciative moan that escaped his mouth, and he quickly shovelled a second mouthful onto his fork.

“Ew, god, Keith! I don’t want to hear you make that sound ever again,” Lance scrunched up his nose in exaggerated disgust, “Ever. In my life!”

 Shiro couldn’t reply even if he had anything to say, since his mouth was currently preoccupied with a third bite of absurdly incredible desert. As much as he wanted to continue enjoying the shortcake, Shiro was hit with the epiphany that if _this_ is what Hunk could do with a simple, common desert, he needed to try everything on the blanket.

Shiro quickly starting shovelling food onto his plate, only for Lance to smack his hand away on the third or fourth dish.

“Ah, no you don’t! You don’t get to show up halfway through the day and just get to enjoy a free Hunk Meal scott free,” Lance’s eyes narrowed in Shiro’s direction, “Explain yourself. Now. Or was Hunk’s cooking the only reason you even came to school today?”

“Hey!” Hunk smacked the hand that Lance had used to smack Shiro, “Who made you keeper of my food, huh? I don’t remember you cooking any of it.” Lance pouted at Hunk like a kicked puppy and rubbed his hand overdramatically. “But seriously,” Hunk turned his gaze to Shiro, the underlying confusion from earlier now bordering me on concern, “Where were you this morning?”

Both Lance and Hunk were looking at Shiro expectantly, and he realized that he wouldn’t be able to dodge their questions any longer. He had a few seconds left of chewing to come up with something to say.

But Shiro had never been a particularly good liar, which is why he brilliantly settled on, “I... um... got lost.”

He quickly stuffed more of the delicious food into his mouth in favor of elaborating.

Hunk’s brow furrowed, and one of Lance’s eyebrows raised so high it disappeared into his hairline. “You got lost?” Lance crossed his armed and leaned forward, “On your way to school? Where you’ve gone to everyday. For the past three years.”

Shiro met Lance’s needling gaze, and opted to shrug noncommittally in favor of anything his stupid honest brain to come up with as a retort.

Lance threw his arms up in clear exasperation, but apparently silence was an expected response, since Lance and Hunk shared a brief look before their body posture returned to the more relaxed state that it had been at earlier.

“Whatever, weirdo,” Lance muttered as he stuffed a bite of something fried into his own mouth, “I’m just glad I won’t have to cover your shift at work.”

“Work?” Shiro mentally kicked himself for bringing the focus of their conversation back to himself.

Hunk’s soft but perceptive eyes were scanning him up and down once again. “You sure you’re okay today, Keith?” His voice was cautious, clearly making an effort to not be accusatory.

“Yes, well... no, it’s just...” Shiro tripped over his words before realizing that there was likely no way to get through the day without facing this particular obstacle. Realizing his predicament, Shiro swallowed whatever small amount of pride still remained in him and sheepishly asked, “Where do I work?” 

———————————————————

Shiro was ready for this dream to be over.

Keith apparently worked at an Italian restaurant further into the city, and Shiro was quickly realizing that he was not cut out to be a waiter.

The never ending stream of orders to remember, glasses to fill, and whatever other miscellaneous tasks his customers politely requested all condensed into a bustling, time sensitive environment which he was not familiar with was turning Shiro into a bundle of nerves.

The novelty of living a different life had worn off, and Shiro was tired and ready to go home. The restaurant was either insanely popular or just received great foot traffic at its location since the tidal wave of customers hadn’t let up at all since Shiro had started his shift. Everywhere Shiro had gone after leaving the apartment that morning, he had been met with a wall of people either forcing him into tight corners and close proximity on train cars or constantly brushing past him on the street or in school hallways. He had clearly taken for granted how easy it was to slip away and find a quiet corner in his grandparents’ temple when his mind was too loud on its own. He had been serious about wanting to escape the suffocating social bubble of Altea, but this unending sea of strangers was giving him severe whiplash.

He was even reminded of one of the few perks of not usually having working nerve endings in his right hand when he had ignored one of the cook’s warning about the temperature of a plate and grabbed it anyway out of habit. The quick, sharp sting of a burn had sent the plate and dish clattering to the ground and caused Shiro to release a hiss of pain as he clutched his now throbbing palm to his chest. A quick assessment of the skin showed no serious damage, but the hand was going to seriously smart for awhile and most likely blister a bit in the healing process.

He knelt down to start cleaning up the splattered mess that he had made of table four’s--or was it five’s?--entree when Lance came strolling through the swinging kitchen doors. “Christ, dude,” Lance sighed as he bent down to help Shiro collect the pieces of shattered ceramic, “I take back what I said earlier. If I knew you were going to be _this_ counterproductive today, I’d have told you to just stay home. That way I’d at least get your tips too.”

Shiro muttered an embarrassed apology before straightening up and actively looking for an excuse to hide in the kitchen a bit longer. He wasn’t looking forward to telling table five--four?--that their wait would be extended while the cooks started their dish over again.

Fortunately, a delay came to him in the form of another waiter walking promptly in his direction, clearly intent on talking to Shiro. Unfortunately, it was to yell at him.

“Kogane, how many times do I have to tell you to put your hair up while your working or I swear to god, I will make you wear a damn hairnet!” The other waiter jabbed a finger pointedly at Shiro’s chest before moving past him to collect a tray of plates stacked in the kitchen window. The guy looked to be Keith’s age like Hunk and Lance, and he had straight brown hair that was longer than average, but more purposefully styled than Keith’s, with a sweeping side part. Shiro barely caught the glimpse of a nametag that read “James” before he disappeared back out into the dining room as quickly as he had arrived.

Shiro stared dumbly after him, stunned by the quick but heated interaction, until the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him caused him to turn around.

Shiro’s eyes widened as he found himself facing one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen in his entire life. She was tall, dark-skinned, and her silver-blonde hair was pinned into a perfect bun at the nape of her neck. She was dressed in the same dress pants, shirt, tie, and jacket as the other waiters, but the crisp name plate on her lapel read “Manager” in small neat font underneath the name “Allura.” Her eyes were a vibrant shade of blue and were narrowed at him in mild annoyance.

“He’s right, you know? Even if he’s not very tactful about it,” her words came out with the elegant lilt of a posh British accent. She pulled a hair tie off of her wrist and extended it to Shiro between her thumb and forefinger. “I’m not going to risk a health code violation on behalf of your personal style preferences.”

Shiro quietly accepted the hair tie before Allura promptly followed James out the swinging kitchen doors. She no doubt had more important matters to address than reminding her employee about dress code standards that he presumably should already know.

Fortunately, Shiro did have some—if limited—experience with longer hair and was able to easily secure his locks into a low ponytail. Potential health code violation avoided, he made his way back into the packed dining room to track down his table and inform them of the unfortunate fate of their dish.

They did not take it well.

Of all the plates that Shiro had to drop, of course it was the one that belonged to a guy that was seven feet tall and built like a truck. Scar tissue surrounding a glass eye and a strange prosthetic limb that seemed to be designed to be more threatening than functional only added to his intimidating appearance. The man’s companion was shorter and slim with greased back hair that made him look like weasel. The look of these two had given Shiro a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach from the moment they took their seats, even before the larger man had started screaming in Shiro’s face.

The yelling was attracting the attention of nearby tables, and polite conversation was slowly dying to an uncomfortable silence as the man continued to make a scene. Shiro took the verbal onslaught in silent embarrassment, until he caught the gleam of metal from under the table. As Shiro realized that the man had pulled out what appeared to be a small blade, he opened his mouth to either protest or shout for help, but was cut off by another waiter forcefully stepping his way in between Shiro and the belligerent patron.

One moment Shiro’s gaze was fixated on the knife that was being flashed at him and the next he was staring at the back of James’s head. “We are so sorry for the inconvenience, sir. We know your time is very valuable. Please, allow us to cover your meal on the house as an apology.” James spoke the words with the expertise of someone who was a well-practiced brown-noser.

Shiro couldn’t believe that an honest mistake had gotten so out of hand, but when Shiro opened his mouth again to apologize James’s cut him off once more with a hissed, “Let me handle this,” under his breath. Shiro took a step back and retreated to go hide in the kitchen some more, and James took over the table for the rest of the night without incident.

The remaining hours of Shiro’s shift passed in a continued blur of activity until finally the restaurant closed its doors. Shiro and the other waiters quietly worked at cleaning and closing down the restaurant under the attentive direction of Allura. In between tasks, Shiro was able to slide into the back of the restaurant unnoticed where he was finally able to locate James. Shiro hadn’t had the chance to talk to him or really anyone else since the incident in the dining room.

James appeared to be taking inventory and was moving frozen food out of the freezer and into the fridge accordingly to make sure that the kitchen was well stocked for the day ahead. He was hefting what looked to be a particularly heavy box when Shiro approached and quietly picked up the other end to help bear some of the weight.

“I’ve got it,” James grunted shortly as they placed box in its proper corner, “Shouldn’t you be helping Lance wipe down tables?”

“A little help never hurts,” Shiro commented, “And I just wanted to thank you for coming to my rescue earlier.”

“Oh,” James seemed genuinely surprised by Shiro’s gratitude and his expression soften a bit, “You mean you’re not mad that I stepped on your toes or some other lame macho shit?”

“No, I was pretty much at a loss for what to do and you seemed to handle it pretty well, since you know... no one got hurt.” James’s brow furrowed, but whether it was from confusion over Shiro’s actions or concern that one of their customers had been brandishing a knife, Shiro couldn’t tell.

“Yeah, I had my suspicions about those guys when they came in. When one of them was bold enough to pull a knife, it pretty much confirmed that they were gang members. And no offense, but you tend to get a little...” James trailed off and tapped his right cheek. Shiro was confused until he rubbed his own cheek and felt the gauze bandage under his eye that he had completely forgotten about.

_Oh._ Shiro was putting the pieces together. Keith got into fights a lot, and James was worried that he was hotheaded enough to get in a fight with an armed gang member. _Interesting._

“Well, I’m glad that you were looking out for me, James,” Shiro smiled.

James visibly stuttered and slowly scanned Shiro up and down before offering a quiet, “Yeah, sure no problem, Keith,” before disappearing back into the freezer.

Shiro turned around to go back into the main dining area only to be met with Lance’s shit-eating grin as he leaned against the propped open back room door. Apparently, his absence had been noted, and Lance had been sent to retrieve him.

“What’s that look for?” Shiro asked.

“Nothing, nothing,” Lance waved his hand through the air still grinning like the Cheshire Cat, “Just looks like someone’s finally learning how not to flirt like a toddler.” Lance’s eyebrows were waggling in a way that Shiro had only thought was possible for cartoon characters.

Lance mocking his flirting skills was especially insulting considering the horrific display that Shiro had seen from him earlier that day. Especially considering that Shiro hadn’t been trying to flirt with James at all. Shiro was under no illusions that his game was sub-par considering the fact that he hadn’t needed to pursue anyone for years and even before that he was far from a Casanova. Thank god Adam was bold enough to make the first move, otherwise they might still be awkwardly dancing around each other to this day. But still, Shiro thought that he would at least be aware enough to know what flirting looked like.

“I wasn’t flirting,” Shiro informed Lance, “I was just being polite.”

“Uh huh, sure,” Lance’s eyebrows continued to dance up and down, “Then since when are you and James Griffin on a first name basis?” Lance’s chuckled when Shiro’s eyes widened, and he realized that he may have unintentionally crossed a line. Lance continued to laugh as he turned to go back into the dining area leaving Shiro alone glancing at the freezer that James had entered and would probably be coming back out of soon.

Shiro was starting to form a complete story from the bits the interaction that he had just had, but there was one fact in particular that was sticking out to him.

Keith, like Shiro, was also into men.

_Interesting._

 ———————————————————

A cursory glance through Keith’s phone and other personal belongings once Shiro was back at the apartment for the night was quickly confirming his suspicion that Keith had a bit of a crush on James Griffin.

The multiple sketchbooks scattered across the desk and throughout Keith’s room were full of various portraits of faces that Shiro was now able to name. There were plenty of Lance and Hunk, a couple of Allura, and even one that Shiro recognized as the man in the photo taped to the mirror. But the sketches of James Griffin, although clearly drawn from memory rather than candid observation, had a distinct quality of extra attention and detail being granted to them. And despite the fact that the two appeared to have a tumultuous relationship, based on Shiro’s brief interactions with the guy and his reactions to Shiro’s behavior that day, all of the drawings of James were refined and portrayed him in a positive, attractive light. The same could not be said of Lance, of which there were many crude doodles and cartoonish caricatures.

Shiro also located where Keith kept his work schedule in his phone and noticed that all of Keith’s shifts coincidentally coincided with James’s. Shiro chuckled to himself as he laid sprawled out on Keith’s mattress still in his uniform from work. The large, black dog was sitting next to him with its head resting on the bed, and Shiro’s hand that wasn’t currently scrolling through Keith’s phone was carding rhythmically through the soft fur between the dog’s ears. It’d been a long time since Shiro had to deal with a crush, and it was strange having those memories come back to him so vividly. That desperate feeling of not knowing what to say or how to act. Constantly trying to read someone to decide whether or not it was worth the risk to act on it. The neverending cycling of hope of reciprocation and fear of rejection that caused your stomach to churn like a washing machine.

Shiro also noticed a diary app in Keith’s phone that helped to fill in some of the blanks from his day. The dog’s name was Kosmo, and the man that shared the apartment with Keith was named Kolivan. As he scanned briefly through past entries, Shiro was struck again with the feeling of guilt, like he was prying too far into someone else’s genuine life. It was the same feeling that had scratched at the back of his mind when he was looking at the photo on the mirror or when he had dropped the phone and shattered its screen. He quickly closed out of the past entries, but when met with a blank page under today’s date, he decided that there was no harm in adding his own personal experiences into the mix.

Shiro had heard of lucid dreaming before. It was even something his therapist had brought up as a potential technique to help him cope with his nightmares. Shiro had never given much effort into actually trying it out, but there was no denying that there was something different and unique about this dream compared to any other dream he’d ever previously had. If he could find a way to keep coming back this dream rather than his recurring nightmares, he was willing to give it a shot.

Shiro vaguely remembered that grounding was an important part of being able to control a dream. Changing his environment intentionally in a way that he would be able to recognise or return to if he ever revisited this particular dream. Filling out the diary entry seemed like a good place to start, but he would probably need something more immediately noticeable.

Shiro put the phone down and glanced around the room before his eyes settled on the desk and he began to formulate an idea. He sat up and, much to Kosmo’s distress at the loss of contact, grabbed a marker off the desk and uncapped it.

In careful, neat characters, Shiro wrote his name on the palm of his left hand.

It would be impossible to miss, and since it would make no sense for him to do this in real life, it would immediately clue him in that he had been able to return to the same dream.

Satisfied and exhausted, Shiro collapsed backwards back onto the bed and barely registered the weight of a dog joining him on the mattress before he slipped off into blissful sleep.

———————————————————

Keith woke up sweaty, overheated, and barely able to breathe, all of which could be attributed to the fact that there was an eighty pound, excessively hairy dog sleeping soundly on top of his chest. Kosmo’s over enthusiasm for cuddles was the main reason Keith couldn’t let the dog sleep in the same room as him, but the stubborn canine had apparently found a way to sneak in while he was out cold.

Ten minutes later of wrestling with a now very much awake and energetic dog that insisted on greeting Keith by shoving his morning breath into his face, Keith finally managed to wrangle Kosmo off the bed and onto the floor where he sat at attention with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth and his tail happily thwapping against the floor.

It was no wonder that Keith had been overheating, since he had apparently fallen asleep fully dressed in his uniform from the restaurant. Maybe Hunk was right and he was taking on too many shifts, if he was so exhausted he didn’t even remember forgetting to take his work clothes off.

He was also surprised to find that his bedroom door was tightly shut, despite the evidence of the large dog currently sitting at his feet. “So what, did you teleport in here?” Keith asked looking at Kosmo, who answered him by making another lunging attempt to lick his face.

After fighting off the aggressive affection of his dog for the second time in the fifteen minutes that Keith had been awake, he exasperatedly ran a hand down his face in an attempt to clear some of the lingering grogginess out of eyes and mind. That simple gesture surprisingly ended up having the exact opposite effect.

Keith’s brow furrowed as he stared in confusion at his left hand. The ink was slightly smudged and streaked from sweat, but someone had very clearly written _Takashi_ _Shirogane_ across his palm in neat, crisp handwriting.

Handwriting that was not his own. Handwriting that Keith didn’t recognize.

Keith tried not to think too hard about it as he scrubbed the writing off his skin in the sink of the bathroom. It was probably Lance just playing some stupid prank on him, though Keith had no idea how he’d managed to pull it off or what the point was. He’d have to confront Lance about it at school.

But, Keith never got the chance since he ended up elbowing Lance hard in the stomach after he felt two hands grab his shoulders from behind in the school hallway.

“Hey! Look who showed up on time toda--Oof!” Keith whipped around to see Lance doubled over with his hands clutching his stomach and trying to catch the breath that had just been knocked out of him. “Whyyyyy?” Lance gasped out staring up at Keith like he was Brutus after stabbing Caesar.

“Christ, Lance! How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me?” Keith crossed his arms and returned Lance’s glare in favor of an apology.

“You didn’t seem to mind yesterday!” Lanced whined, still doubled over. He was definitely overreacting now. Keith might have nailed him pretty hard out of instinct but there was no way that the idiot hadn’t gotten his breath back by now. “I thought we’d bonded, buddy!”

“What are talking about?” Keith leveled Lance with another look laced with suspicion used to cover up his genuine confusion.

“You were so nice yesterday,” Lance continued to whimper, “Hunk, mean-Keith is back, and he killed me.”

Keith glanced over his shoulder in time to see that Hunk had approached from behind Keith and, thankfully, hadn’t made a move to grab him without warning, which would have most likely resulted in a second casualty of Keith’s self defense reflexes that morning.

“Hey, Keith! You feeling better today? Why’d you kill Lance?” Hunk waved at Keith when he turned around and seemed more curious than concerned about Lance’s apparent demise. “Did he deserve it?”

“He’s fine. He’s just being a drama queen as usual,” Keith pouted.

“If I die from internal bleeding, stay away from my funeral,” Lance whispered with malice in Keith’s direction.

Keith rolled his eyes and turned to face Hunk fully. “I’m fine too. Why do you ask?”

Hunk eyed him with something that looked like a cross between concern and confusion before answering. Lance had finally straightened up and now actually looked genuinely perplexed by Keith’s question.

It was at this point that Keith became convinced that they were both in on some joke and were trying to gaslight him. They both insisted that he hadn’t shown up at school until noon the day before, which couldn’t have been right, and that when he did finally show up, he had been acting weirdly out of character. Despite Keith snapping at his friends that he didn’t believe them for a second, they continued to try and convince him that he had experienced some strange bout of amnesia. When Keith told Lance that they needed to leave their study group early to head to work, Hunk even jokingly asked if he remembered where to go.

It wasn’t until Keith was at the restaurant, an hour or so into his shift, where he finally began to question whether his friends’ sanity was actually more intact than his own.

He had been struggling to balance a large tray of plates, when James Griffin of all people came to help him steady its position. Instead of a snappy comment about how he needed to be more careful, Griffin just offered a quiet, “Here, let me help you with that.”

“Uh...thanks.” It came out sounding more like a question than a response.

“No problem, Keith,” Griffin looked like he was about to smile in his direction before visibly being overcome with either embarrassment or pride and disappeared quickly between the swinging doors into the dining area with his ears burning red.

Keith stared dumbly after him, and turned to Lance with a questioning look. All he got as an answer was Lance making an obscene hand gesture that promptly earned him a smack on the back of the head from Allura.

The seeds of doubt had been planted, but it wasn’t until he was back in his room and he opened his diary app for his nightly entry that they really began to flourish into a full blown crisis.

Yesterday’s entry was full. And Keith didn’t remember writing _any_ of it. Or living any of it either. Even more concerning was the fact that most of what was described confirmed what Lance and Hunk had been saying.

The entry was written from the point of view of a stranger. Like an an outsider had been observing Keith’s life without previously being a part of it. Something about the experience screamed of familiarity that Keith’s mind couldn’t quite place. That was until he reached the end of the passage and saw that the author had signed off as “ _Shiro.”_

In that moment, Keith remembered the _“Takashi Shirogane”_ that had been written on his hand that morning and the flood gate of memories opened, nearly drowning him in its tidal wave. He remembered a tiny town surrounding a lake that reflected the sun. Frantically writing _“Who are you?”_ into a notebook. A quiet temple at the top of a hill that was home to a kind elderly couple. A one-armed man who live with them whose name was Takashi, but went by Shiro.

“Holy shit...” Keith sat up in bed staring between his phone and his left palm. He’d thought he had dreamt it all. But if that was the case then how was Shiro altering his reality?

It was crazy, but it was the only explanation he had.

“That guy... Shiro and I we’re... we’re...”

_We’re switching places._

Miles away, in a tiny town nestled in the mountains, Shiro was frantically hunched over a notebook reaching the same conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am tentatively planning for this fic to be thirteen chapters including the prologue and the epilogue, but that might be subject to change. I am also hoping to get as much of this fic out before the final season as possible, but that also depends pretty heavily on my IRL schedule.
> 
> This chapter was a lot more set up, but now that our boys know what's going on and the stage has been set, we've got a lot of body swap shenanigans in store for next chapter!
> 
> Also got to sneak in a Sendak and Haxus cameo this chapter which was fun.
> 
> Comments and kudos keep me motivated and let me know if anyone else out there is enjoying this pure self indulgence, and as such are greatly appreciated! At the very least, I hope you had fun reading this!


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